


Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes One Shots

by buckycharmbarnes



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), Steve Rogers - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckycharmbarnes/pseuds/buckycharmbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a small place to bask in the joy of fictional patriots and their infinite plot line possibilities. Most of these will be either Bucky Barnes X Reader or Steve Rogers x Reader but i might throw in some OC's for love interests</p>
<p>reason for writing this - Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have taken over my life</p>
<p>reason for reading this - Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have taken over your life</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lemon-Scented

**Author's Note:**

> I got REALLY REALLY REALLY giddy writing this, this one holds a special place in my heart!

"(y/n)," The strong whisper sent (y/n) spiraling backwards on her heel, grasping her heaving chest at the knife that cut through the sience. Bucky stood stoic as usual, hands in his pockets with a few extra steps between the two he had taken at her sudden jumping.

"Oh my god!" She whispered harshly. "Bucky! Were you . . . were you following me?"

"If I say I was would you punch me?" She rolled her eyes, puling down on her tanged night shirt then garing back up at him with tired yet annoyed eyes.

"You know you're really pushing your luck, Barnes," Her voice was still kept in a whisper that seemed to echo through the moon-lit gass hallway. Beyond the glass stood the greeness of the jungle they could hear from where they stood apart, the soft shadowy noises of crickets and faraway birds tricking through the midnight air. "How'd you even know?"

"You don't think a soviet assasin couldn't sense movement in the dead of night?" She furrowed her eyebrows up at him, lowering her chin and shooting up eyes that said Really Barnes? He sighed, knowing she wouldnt fall for his cockiness. "Your doors a little creaky," He admited with a shrug. "So you gonna tell me why you're up?"

"Barnes, I can take care of myself,"

"Uh, no you can't," She crossed her arms, glaring into his overly-sure eyes. "It's not like you can make this any worse,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked in a scowl.

"There's too much going on in your head for you to be running around by yoursef in the middle of the night," His whisper was brassy, dripping with an imperious tone she coudn't stand, which was exactly why he used it.

"Oh that's rich coming from-" Before she coud finish out her recovery clapback, a sudden noise jolted both their heads to the end of the curved hallway, the door that stood at the entrance concealed and a steady flashlight that seemed to be getting closer.

(y/n) grabbed hold of Bucky's shoulders, flinging hersef into the janiers closet to their right and pulling him in with her before quietly but quickly shutting the door behind them. A shrouding darkness that smelled of cleaning supplies and lemon-scented chemicals followed the click of the lock on the door as Bucky felt around for the light switch.

"Just for the record this is what making things worse looks like," (y/n) heard Bucky say into the darkness, giving her another excuse to roll her tired eyes.

"Shut up," She scollded into the blinding darkness, making him stop before he had the chance to utter another insult.

She was tense and tried her best not to breath in the fowl chemicals through her nose, well, the ones that werent masked bye an unidentified sweet smeling must that filled her nostrils.

Does he really wear colonge to bed. If there was a way for a person to roll their eyes in their mind, that is what she'd be doing. However, by the judge of space they were contained in and the closness of his voice she realized just how close Bucky's face was to hers. Her mind also registered that her back was to the closet wall with Bucky trapping her against it. She could suddenly feel every curve and ridge of his body due to the fact that the closet was so disorganized and messy (y/n) had only that little bit of space to hide in. She inhaled sharply when she saw in the sliver of moonlight that krept through the crack in the doorframe that his lips were really close to her face.

Meanwhile, Bucky was realizing just how smooth and soft her lips looked. It pained him to look at (y/n)'s lips in the small light, it also pained him when he couldn't stop staring at them, and the fact that her warm body felt really good against his wasn't helping him too much, either. The two of them remained in a deafening silence that filed the room, listening intently to the footsteps that seemed to eventualy surpass the closet. They didn't realize they had been holding their breath until they were sure whomever was out there was gone.

"We in the clear?" Bucky whispered, still not inviting movement on either of them.

"Shut up,"

"(y/n), I think we're okay,"

"Maybe," she replied, meeting Bucky's gaze as it shot into her eyes. This wave of something hit her like a pickup truck, as she opened her mouth to continue her sentence but uttered nothing.

"Can we . . . leave?" His eyes couldn't stay in once place, instead they ventured over her features, undeniably but not intentionally ravishing her eyes.

"Probably," she continoued, very faintly, suddeny and regrettably deprived of breath. "I don't know," The pauses between her words were now intimate, her eyes flickering from his beautiful lips back to his even more beautiful still, blueness of his eyes.

Her mind couldn't stay focused on one thing, instead it hurrily hovered over word to word, action to action, but not daring to land on one option. Instead. Bucky was focused and debating over one sole thought that had consumed his mind ever since she had looked at him. Bucky was wondering how bad it would be if he just kissed her. Was this hatred, or something else? Maybe it was hatred for his own self for not having the pair to just do it, to make a move, Barnes. The way her eyes gazed up at him through her lashes and the way she was chewing her lip nervously just pushed him to the breaking point.

So naturally, he thought, "screw it," and took a leap of faith. He did something he would only have done in the 1940s. He kissed (y/n), a tender press from his lips to hers. She pulled out of it almsot imediety, jerking back, wondering what that was about before realizing what was happening. Bucky began to panic when she wasn't kissing him back. He pulled away and began to ramble.

"Oh my god, I don't know what that was. I'm sorry," Her gaze dropped as Bucky's humiliation took its toll, redening his cheeks and making him want to sprint out of that closet and lock himself in his room forever.

"That was weird," She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

" . . . Yeah . . ."

"You-you wanna do it again?"

"I don't think this is a good-" (y/n) did the smart thing; stepping up to him to cut him off mid sentence, using only her lips and not her voice to shut him up, and it was the first time Bucky actually stopped talking. One kiss turned into five, and five morphed into something spactacular. Buckys hands had pulled her in by her lower back, slowly begining to trail up to find the back of her neck, holding her in by her burning cheeks.

"What the hell?" She stepped out from his lips, pinning herself to the hard wall behind her, her loss of breath taking its feverish toll.

"Uh . . . " he couldn't hope to say anything to help the situation, whatever that situation was, they both couldn't bring themselves to understand anything that was happening, or anything they felt. They didn't take their eyes off each other, staring at the other's widened eyes in disbelief, awaiting the other ones words, until Bucky took the task. "What is happening?"

"I don't know, you started it!" She raised her voice, pushing blame onto him like a child.

"Well you weren't stopping it!" He yelled back, eyebrows in a clustering furrow, and his hair all in disarray, courtesy of (y/n)'s hands whose touch he was growing to miss.

"Are we . . . are we doing this?" She hesitated, swallowing back her fear, or at least trying to. The look in his eyes just urged her closer to him, each passing moment something in her escalated, building upon itself and teasing its own self-destruction.

"Yes. Maybe. I hope so," He admitted in a mutter. "Are we?"

"Are you serious?"

"If you say yes, I'm serious if you say no, I'm joking," he rushed out the words like an auctioneer, as the space between them slowly vanished.

"I like those odds," She breathed before pulling him down and crashing their lips together, a title wave of satisfaction breaking over her before his hands found themselves back around her.


	2. To Have and to Hold

"For when he's ready," Steve had told you when he handed you the box of faded photographs. "Whenever that might be,"

She wasn't sure if Bucky was ready to see the man he used to be, but what could she do now that he'd found the photos? She searched her boyfriend's face for any hint of emotion, but he remained impassive as he stared at the picture held delicately in his right hand. It was a nice photo, it made (y/n) smile to see how happy the young man appeared as he stood tall and proud in his newly issued army uniform. His dark hair was neatly slicked back, and there was still something in his eyes that she couldn't see now.

Bucky frowned slightly at the photo of the man he used to be. He was confused; that young man looked so happy, so proud of where he was going in the world. But there was something else, something that didn't make sense. The young man with his cheeky smile and eyes filled with hope was lonely. No one stood proudly at his side, no one held his hand and told him how happy he made them. 

He had her to do that now. 

She rested her warm hand over the harsh metal that answered for his left arm, her fingertips drawing random patterns as she watched his face for a reaction.

"What do you think of him?"

She frowned slightly; that wasn't a question she had expected, but she considered her answer carefully.

"He looks proud," she said, smiling softly. "He looks like he thinks he rules the world. What do you think of him?" she added when he didn't reply.

Bucky searched for the right words, and she noticed his face contorting in frustration when he couldn't find them. She laced her fingers with his, pressing a feather light kiss to the tiny area of exposed skin between his neck and the collar of his shirt.

"He looks like he needs someone to tell him that they're proud too," he managed eventually, his grey eyes locking with hers. "He looks like he needs you."

Later that night, she lay asleep with a peaceful expression gracing her face with its presence. The rustle of the blankets moving as Bucky climbed carefully out of bed to not wake her. Reaching under the bed with his metal hand while keeping his eyes on her sleeping form all the while, he searched for the box of photos. Sitting with his back against the mattress, he removed the lid and picked up the picture on the top of the pile. It was the most recent of the photos, but "recent" didn't seem like an appropriate word to use to describe it, given that it was over seventy years ago when he stood in front of the camera with his fellow Howling Commandos to have it taken.

Bucky didn't think he looked as happy in this photo. He was still smiling, but it was a tired and weary smile, as if someone was twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to smile. His steely grey eyes drifted to the faces of the other men in the picture. Steve he recognized, with his sheepish grin and awkward stance, as if he still wasn't used to being so tall. Bucky might have chuckled at the familiarity of it, if he hadn't been so concerned with the other men beside them. He knew he should know them. They'd been his brothers, hadn't they? They'd fought alongside him, risked their lives for him on several occasions without giving it a second thought, and yet he couldn't even remember their names. A tear trailed down his cheek, and he took a shuddering breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back to the surface.

"I want to know them," he whispered, his voice surprisingly steady. She smiled sadly, sitting beside him on the floor and reaching for his hand.

"I think their names are on the back," she told him, making to flip the picture over. Bucky moved it out of her reach sharply, shaking his head.

"I want to remember them," he said desperately, his brows knitting together in distress. She nodded almost unnoticeably, squeezing his hand in a reassuring manner.

"You will," she promised. "I can't wait to hear about them."

It was impossible for Bucky not to notice the glances, and more often than not stares, sent his way as he made his way through the Avengers base. He didn't stare back now, just kept on walking and accepted that this would never change.

What other treatment could a murderer hope to receive?

He zipped up his leather jacket as he descended the outer stairs quickly, making his way to where his motorbike was parked in the spot right next to the fence. As he reached behind himself for his helmet, his flesh fingers brushed against a sheet of folded paper. Frowning, he unfolded it until a one-worded message in red ink could be seen.

"Monster," he read in a whisper, the paper falling from his fingers and drifting away on the breeze. He wasn't sure why this got to him so much; he'd heard and seen a lot worse said about him in his time at S.H.I.E.L.D. Perhaps it was the red ink that looked like blood (had the writer done that on purpose?), or the fact that someone had went out of their way to make sure he saw the message.

Or perhaps it was because he agreed with whomever had written it.

A smile spread across your face as the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing reached her ears, followed by Bucky's heavy footsteps. The smile faded, however, when she saw the lack of one on his face.

"Buck?" she called after him as he went straight through into their bedroom. Frowning as she heard drawers opening, she got to her feet to find out what she was doing.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her eyes widening in confusion as she watched her bucky filling a bag with her clothes.

"You need to leave me." He didn't even look at her when she sunk to her knees beside him, grabbing his wrists to stop him packing.

"Why?" she demanded. "Bucky, what happened? Did someone say something to you? Did I-,"

"They hate me," he mumbled. "And they'll start hating you, and I can't do that to you." Her mouth fell open as she sat back on her heels, tears welling in her eyes only to be blinked back determinedly.

"Do you really want me to leave?" she asked calmly. "Would you rather I was alone than with you?"

"I'd rather you were safe from their opinions," he whispered, not meeting her eyes. She glared at him, lifting his chin with her thumb and forefinger so that he had to look at her.

"That doesn't answer my question," she told him. "Do you want to live here without me?" Biting his lip, he shook his head slowly and reached for her hand.

"You don't have to stay...but I want you to."

She smiled softly at him, running her hands through his dark hair.

"Why don't we go to bed, huh?" she suggested. "This has been a bad day, so let's end it here."  
He didn't smile fully, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly as she helped him to his feet. 

As he kicked his boots off and changed into his night clothes, he couldn't help but think back to the photograph he'd found just a few days ago. In some ways, he was jealous of the young man standing surrounded by his friends, grinning and unsuspecting of the trauma coming his way, but in other ways he felt far superior.

The man in the photo didn't have (y/n) by his side.

As she curled up against his body and rested her head on his chest, he felt an overwhelming rush of affection towards her. Without her, he would still be the Winter Soldier, without a friend in the world. Without her, he would be Sergeant James Barnes, who was happy, but in the way that he knew wouldn't last. Sergeant James Barnes was happy because it was his last chance to be. With (y/n) by his side, he didn't have to be either of them. He could be Bucky, who had done bad things but was writing a new story for himself. He could accept that sometimes he would fall, because she would be there to pick him up. When the ghosts of his past were haunting him, she was there to hold his hand until he was back in the present.

As long as he had her to hold his hand, he was happy being Bucky.


	3. Moving on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summary;
> 
> \- the reader is an avenger  
> \- she was close with Tony until he died  
> \- she and bucky are in love  
> \- she gets shot
> 
> warnings: character death, talk of life beyond death, very detailed passing
> 
> good luck...
> 
> OH P.S.  
> while reading this, I suggest you listen to "Life and Death" it's on the show LOST soundtrack and it surely sets the mood and let me tell you, it ain't a happy one

Bucky sniffled, wiping his own waterfall. "Okay, fine. Let's get you ou-"

She cut him off. "Stop, I'll only slow you-" she coughed up more blood, Bucky gripped on her hand. "You guys go, leave me. Designate the bombs."

The broken soldier shook his head, his voice cracking as he thought of her sacrificing. He grazed her features; using both eyes and hands, taking in every sight of her perfection and burning it into his mind. " No . . . we're not leaving you."

She made eye contact, no words spoken but she said spoke with her now loosing light eyes. Bucky's heart shattered as they spoke non verbally. His head fell and he wept, she wasn't giving them a choice.

It was her last command.

Steve was signaled by her and placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. He cried harder, hiding within his hands. The saddened lover leaned down and planted one last kiss. His tears created a salty kiss. Their passion intertwining one last time.

"I, I love you too." He shuttered. Steve pulling him forward, the soldier crying on his friend's shoulder. 

They left, flooding through the window with a burden they were set to carry forever, the order they couldn't refuse. Bucky, with one leg out stopped- his eyes went to her still awakened body. His eyes clenched as Steve was urged to pull him from his bearings away from her sight, as he coughed cried and screamed, trying to rid himself of Steve's saddened urges.

Her screaming name rang over and over again in her ears, listening to his final battle cry before she was too far to hear anything more.

Five.

She counted down. Her vision blurring, on the verge of dropping.

He stared at her from afar. Her quiet figure amongst the chatty group captured his attention. Her nose in a book as she snuggled along a side of the couch. She was rapaciously beautiful, turning every head like a diamond in a coal mine, packing more punch than a Mississippi fist fight

Four.

She rolled her eyes at his desperate attempt to flirt. "Pour me something stronger than him," She said to the bartender, plunging her thumb in Bucky's direction.

"Wow, you're overly confident tonight. If I didn't know better I'd follow you upstairs," He grinned into his cup of bubbling amber.

"Yeah, well thank God you know better," She shrugged, tilting over the bar satisfied with the smirk she saw from the corner of her eye.

The pudding of footsteps closer towards the door was felt from underneath her.

Three.

"What the hell?" She stepped out from his lips, pinning herself to the hard wall behind her, her loss of breath taking its feverish toll.

"Uh . . . " he couldn't hope to say anything to help the situation, whatever that situation was, they both couldn't bring themselves to understand anything that was happening, or anything they felt. They didn't take their eyes off each other, staring at the other's widened eyes in disbelief, awaiting the other ones words, until Steve took the task. "What is happening?"

"I don't know, you started it!" She raised her voice, pushing blame onto him like a child.

"Well you weren't stopping it!" He yelled back, eyebrows in a clustering furrow, and his hair all in disarray, courtesy of (y/n)'s hands whose touch he was growing to miss.

"Are we . . . are we doing this?" She hesitated, swallowing back her fear, or at least trying to. The look in his eyes just urged her closer to him, each passing moment something in her escalated, building upon itself and teasing its own self-destruction.

"Yes. Maybe. I hope so," He admitted in a mutter. "Do you want to?"

"Are you serious?"

"If you say yes, I'm serious if you say no, I'm joking," he rushed out the words like an auctioneer, as the space between them slowly vanished.

"I like those odds,"

Two.

"I found a few more explanations as to why I'm falling in love with you," and suddenly Bucky was without words, his mind turned to jelly and English suddenly became a tricky subject. He choked on his own words he couldn't bring himself to utter looking down into (y/n)'s hopeful eyes that he never wanted to stray too far from.

"You . . . love . . . "

"Yes. I do. And if I don't, I don't believe in anything,"

One.

"I will love you forever." Bucky spoke passionately. His face close to hers. She smiled wide, the blush creeping on her face.

"Forever is a long time."

"Not long enough."

She closed her eyelids, smiling and breathing in the memory regardless of now much it pained her chest.

Yet suddenly, the grey cracks in the ceiling above her sinking sight blurred, swirling around itself like cake batter. The dense amount of pain pulsing through her subsided, and was simply no more. Given the extensive light that swirled around her, putting her arm up to shield her from it all wasn't needed. The silence seemed to captivate her, in all that she was, all that she had ever been and healed it not yet replacing it.

The room was warm, oh so warm and it felt like butterfly's fluttering like silk over her skin where the bumps and bruises and bloodied gashes were now absent. She ran her hands along the yellow lace of the dress she wore, wiping the nonexistent scarlet off before realizing it was lost to her.

The angel encased in the stain glass window behind her smiled down at her, it's radiance not well enough to satisfy her wandering mind. The room was lit only by the sunlight she didn't find as beginning to, lighting up the room in different colors like a kaleidoscope. Something more was to happen, she knew that much as her eyes grazed the interior of the space, and it was only a matter of time until the silence was broken.

"Hey sweetheart," she swung around and met the eyes of someone part of her knew she would, and all of her hoped she would.

Tony stood in a black suit, stationed in the center of the room with nothing but his open arms, and she didn't bother hesitating.

She cried into his neck, feeling his strong arms and sensing his sad smile until se slowly pulled back, inviting herself back into his sad eyes.

"Where are we?" She whispered, shaking her head. His smile simply grew, engulfing his features as she stroked his cheek.

His head gently shook. "I've been here awhile,"

"Where?"

"From what I understand . . . there is no where, there is no here, and when ceases to exist,"

"Tony how are you . . . you're dead," She pleaded for sense, her bottom lip quivering.

"Yes . . . I did die," The realization that confirmed her most inner delusions now hit her like a truck, sending any hope to return to reality out the window.

"And I . . . ?" She didn't want to say it . . . or ask for confirmation straight away so he invited her back in as she released her tardy tears. One by one, they escaped not slowing her or letting her catch her breath, for all she thought she had none left to breath.

"Yeah, honey . . . just so,"

His affirmation was all the proof she needed, and hell she was begging for a whole lot, but who wouldn't. She followed through, backing away as he released her, stepping forward to wipe the soggy hairs from the salty plaster of her red cheeks, watching the tears being wiped away.

"What do I do now?" She asked in a raspy mutter, still sniffing away the moment or at least trying to.

He tilted his head to the side, a muttered smirk overcome with compassion and understanding . . . the underlying truth of his understanding shone bright in her eyes.

"What do I . . . Tony I don't understand,"

"I know kiddo. I didn't either, that's why I'm here,"

"Are you an angel . . . ?" She was so innocent, so pure that it slowed Tony's thinking looking into her orbs. Above all, he knew she was scared, more than that, she was perpetually terrified.

He finally chuckled listening as it died in his throat. "Everyone dies sometime, kiddo. Everyone fades away but some are lucky enough to live on without living on. They are remembered, some are worshiped and some others, sadly the most, fall to nothing. If I am an angel . . . and let's hope I'm qualified . . . then all I can do is help you along the way, to remembrance,"

She felt his hand on her lower back, looking over at him as she was softly pushed to the large mahogany door. She turned back to him, as he took in her likeness, smiling at the beauty she still wore regardless of where they now stood.

"What am I supposed to do? Without you . . . Wanda, Steve . . . Bucky? What about them?" She pleaded softly.

"Let go, (y/n). Just let go,"

"I don't . . . where am I going?" all he did was nod towards the door, a simple gesture she found soothing, something to cling to as she felt the doorknob find itself in her grasp.

"That's really bright," she smiled, her figure drowning into the bright whitish yellow that radiated from the door frame. Her smile was irreplaceable, with Tony's just so.

Step by step she took, each one just as important as all the rest, hearing and listening to the symphony of violins she swore she heard . . . but none of it mattered.

"It's so wonderful," The bobbing of the burden lifted from her shoulders was temporary and died just as fast as her tears dispersed. It was wonderful . . . it certainly was . . . it invited her like an old friend, bringing her in as she

finally

let

go.

The doors of the compound burst open with ferociousness, practically ripping it off its hinges. Agents came in a line, guns in the air as they scouted for any Avenger.

They found one.

One after the other, they followed accordingly. Their guns raised at her direction, swimming through the concrete floor. All circling her.   
One after another, they lowered their guns. Blood soaked around her, in a puddle. Her chest no longer heaved up and down. The pale tint to her skin brightened as their eyes made their way to her smile laying just as peacefully as she was.


	4. DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little weird. This is from the reader's pov, the reader is a criminal and just escaped from a shield compound when they caught her, she meets Steve in a bar and this is how it happens. There's no kissing or really romance, it's just an interaction.

I sat there on the unimaginably uncomfortable wooden chair, watching my cup of coffee continue to create a ring in front of me. I had jumped on a bus just a few blocks out of reach of those bastards, and had apparently slept a long time because I had been woken kicked off by the narcotic driver. I knew where I was though, this was D.C. Never having been here I previously had simply walked around, keeping a set of eyes behind me, until I arrived at the steps of this old-ish looking diner. It was definitely a busy joint and most of the people here were definitely from D.C., well-kept trendy clothes mixed with designer sunglasses sitting on a head-full of forced curls. Other than that, there were people who really shouldn't be allowed out of their house. I watched a gothic couple sitting in the corner, apparently using their lips trying to create static electricity. It was a surprise to me that their nose rings didn't get sucked up into the storm. Yet the rest of the people I studied made me uncomfortable, like they were gonna grab me and take me away again.

That interrogation room definitely wasn't a part of the us government, or the fbi or homeland security. Definitely nothing federal or apart of the union. Something told me that the government knew as much as I did about the facility that had taken me captive-nothing. Not a damn thing. But one thing that I was sure about, it was that they were looking for me, and they weren't gonna stop. I knew that taking out those two guards was easier than it should have been, were they planted there just for my entertainment? Or maybe to show my potential, or get a good shot of my face for the wanted posters that were to appear the next morning. I sat at my table, like a rock in the middle of a river, as the lunch rush slowly cleared out around me. I didn't so much as turn my head every time that little bell rang until I was the only customer in the whole complex. Behind me, I suspected the sun was sinking as fast as i always watched it which gave me the urge to turn and run. Yet I didn't move after I heard the little bell ring one last time.

After I heard the door close, a tall man carrying a leather jacket took way past me. He sat down at the bar, faced semi-away from my line of view. Other than his features, I saw his elbows on the bar, classic comb over and a certain composure I only saw on old men, though he wasn't exactly an old geezer. For the next few minutes, suddenly forgetting why I had to leave, I watched him and his mannerisms; all slow yet steady and a bit relaxed like he had something to do and all the time in the world to do it. After muttering something to the bartender, he looked over his left shoulder, almost at me but not quite. I was instantly astonished by the depth of his eyes, so blue I questioned the sky's pigment. Even from across the span of the room i was stricken senseless by their complexity. He had no hint of a smile, as he looked down before dragging back into the bar space.

Behind my back, the sun had almost completely vanished as the evening sunlight trickled into the place through the glass. I looked down at my boots, somehow lonelier now than I ever had been. I know I shouldn't have done this, I should have found other places to waste my time, but something drew me up to the bar. Leaving my disappointed coffee, I sat two seats to the right of him as the soft, distant piano keys and saxophones fought to dominate the bar tenders rummaging back in the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pick up his glass and take a sip, and something about all of it made me feel guilty. Not knowing why I was there, or what was gonna happen, I checked the clock on the wall as the minute hand took on the 4 and the hour hand slept over 7. It had been just about a day since I had woken up in the blank room, since I had put it on my six. That gave them that time to track me down and pinpoint my location to a fault.

I panicked internally, ignoring my curiosity with him, and attempted to close the space between the door and I. I turned up my collar just before a certain voice altered my new plans.

"D.C." I heard a low voice say from behind me. I stopped and looked at the only other person in the room, with his blue eyes staring back. A soft side smirk appeared on his face. "You seem lost." I suddenly forgot again about leaving, the silence of the bar drew me in and I turned to face the stranger with skeptic eyes.

"I'm not lost." I lied bluntly. He softly chuckled and looked down, then back up at me, like he saw through it.

"Ma'am, no one stays out this late on this side of D.C. unless they wanna get mugged." He nodded his head, turning out the stool to face me.

"How do you know I don't wanna get mugged?" I raised my brows, emotionless.

"No one does. Trust me." The sincerity in his voice gave me a hint he had experienced that type of thing first hand. But the silence was now pulling my feet the other way.

"I'm sorry, I really have to go." I turned towards my exist.

"Then I'll walk with you." He stood up when I reluctantly him again, letting my annoyance with him show on my face.

"Then I'll stay here, and let you walk in peace." I gestured towards the bar.

"Okay, I'll stay here." He sat back down and took another sip of his drink. Seeing that I wasn't going to get out of his unwanted offer, I sighed and took back to my seat. 

"So," he started, facing me. "How'd a girl like you end up on this side of the tracks, huh?" I shook my head, looking at the wood of the bar.

"Girl like me?" I pondered, lifting my eyebrows.

"Ya, I mean, you don't really seem like the type of girl you're trying to come off as." I still didn't look at him.

"Okay, so tell me, what am I crucially attempting to radiate as to come off as well, what?" I say, leaning back in the chair, facing him.

"Well, you obviously don't look like that jacket is exactly comfortable." He gestured toward the jacket I had always had, most likely getting the uncomfortable vibe from everything that had happened. I looked at him, a bit on the defense now hearing what he had to say. I shook my head, in disbelief.

"You don't know a single thing about me." I reached over to take the drink from in front of him, turning it upside down over my mouth, and slamming the empty glass down at his space. After I forced the hard ale down my throat, I looked at him, poked my eyebrows up, and looked away. Even not looking at him, this stranger was smiling a certain way I had never seen.

"So what's your name." He was leaning into every word I said, as if I was a rose he couldn't resist but to stop and smell. I opened my mouth, but paused before any words came out. I couldn't just tell him my name, I had no idea what would happen if I did.

"Aria." I blurted out with absolutely no grace. My grandmother's name echoed throughout the empty bar. He nodded his head pursing his lips, seeming to be drawn to it.

"Well, Aria, I think it's safe to say that you're not what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting, Steve?"

"You sat over their drinking your coffee, then slipped back over here on your way out, and yet i can't smell a hint of desperation on you." He sipped his drink looking forward, somehow content with the shocked look on my face.

"Well you're one to talk. Just take a look at your hair. News flash - when girls like older guys it doesn't necessarily mean you gotta go off and do that." He slightly chuckled at what I said.

"You'd be surprised." After his words, a silence arose from no where, and I couldn't stop looking into his eyes which were happily returning the favor. "So," he suddenly glanced away and stood up.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked.

"Yes of course, I'm walking you home." He picked up his jacket and slid it into place on his tall figure.

"Again, I don't-"

"Please, it's something I gotta do."

He did indeed do what he had to do. I improvised when I realized I didn't already have a hotel, told him the seventh one we passed was it. There was no night cap. There was no thank you kiss, no coffee, no hug, not even a "so will I see you again?". No. nothing like that. I watched him disappear into the night before pulling up the musky blankets of the hotel room bed. Alone.

We never saw each other again . . .

. . . or at least not until Steve got his mission the next morning . . . tracking down a missing convict, how hard could that be?


End file.
